Poetry
Sasha
When old dogs call it a day, go away
And finally reach, who knows where?
Some of them are quite likely to say.
Rather stay with my folks down there.
If that cannot be made to transpire
The Lord may stretch a point for us.
Why is our earth getting so war-ridden?
Isn’t there any answer out there hidden?
But we keep on asking again and again
Like some parrot that has gone insane,
Yet knows what sought is outside cage.
So do we, if we could but turn the page.
Some think it lies in missiles and drones
In rockets and bombs, exploded phones
Others who think themselves to be wise
Arrange meeting, talks,summit and ties
They worst, with smile reaching no eyes
Practised in truths that shame even lies.
Our battles no acts of might and bravery
Cowards we, kill remotely pressing a key
No worthy foe overcome, no victory won
Just savage slaughter, indifferently done.
So many don’t know whence came death
Who the strangers who strangled breath?
It’s time to leave home, stride into the rain
Battle those who fight only for selfish gain
By some means put them all to the sword
Cleanse our lands, throw them overboard.
But why me? Not my quarrel, best abstain
That the answer then, no questions remain.
When old dogs call it a day, go away
And finally reach, who knows where?
Some of them are quite likely to say.
Rather stay with my folks down there.
If that cannot be made to transpire
The Lord may stretch a point for us.
Bailiff: All rise! The Court of Honourable Justice Pandava is now in session.
Court clerk: Case No.15326, Kabirs vs Dayal of 2020.
Judge: Are both the petitioner and respondent present in court along with their counsels?
Vantage Rock lived up to its name all right! Gaunt rock, pervasive in panorama. Stark and sheer rock. Peaked crags that grabbed the first rays of the sun and wrapped them round their flinty heads.
The virus will, sooner or later, play itself out
We repeat that, in spite of that nagging doubt.
In the meantime, it will take some of us along
Whether or not we have done anything wrong.
The game of life has ever played out like that
Sickness will always pick some out of the hat.
This present strain is blind, and is hungry too.
Social gap, washing hands, all that we can do.
There are just twenty of them, would you believe!
The rest are restrained, why not allowed to leave?
Maybe the score bears numberless grains of rice
To fill million stomachs, a little left over for mice.
Divine intervention? So meagre is thy daily bread
To seek pardon for trespass on so many left dead.
When the flags of freedom fly
They surely must evoke
Visions of that valiant tribe
Who fought to break the yoke.
When the songs of freedom sound
They surely call to mind
Thorns they took away with them
The flowers they left behind.
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